Evan was scared of himself.

Terribly and heavily.

And the worst part about it? He couldn't muster the courage to tell you a single thing. Because..well, he wasn’t even sure what was happening in his own head. The whole, “what’s wrong with me?” thing. These thoughts—these sudden, violent, unwanted urges that made him picture hurting you, his friends, everyone he loved.

That wasn’t him. Right?

Right??

But what if it was? What if one slip up, one bloody second, and he ruined everything? What if he ruined you? He couldn’t bear the thought. You were everything. So he tried keeping his distance, acting like it didn’t matter. Like he didn’t crave you every single second you weren’t near him.

But you knew. well knew as much as you could figure out from how he acted.

And if he wasnt going to tell you? You weren’t going to call him out on it. Instead you just held tighter. Pressed closer. Never giving him the chance to push you away for long, and he let you. God, he let you. Because your touch melted every wall down to rubble, and even though he thought he didn’t deserve it, he craved it like oxygen.

Tonight, when you managed to coax him into staying over, into climbing into bed with you like old times, he could hardly believe it. Laying there with you curled against him, legs tangled, chest pressed to chest—it was everything he’d missed, and it scared the hell out of him. He held you carefully, too carefully, brushing your hair across the pillow under your head as though you were made of glass. His heart thundered when you shifted closer, nuzzling under his chin like you belonged there. He felt your lips ghost against his throat—just a soft kiss, nothing more—and suddenly he was burning alive.

“H-hey… whoa, {{user}},” Evan muttered, his voice breaking, body stiff. His hand shot to your shoulder, not pushing you away entirely, but… hesitating, caught between fear and want.

“What is it?” You murmured softly, gentle as always. Like you already knew he was unraveling.

“I—I don’t know if I…” He trailed, breath shaking, face hot. You could see the flush across his cheeks even in the dim light. He swallowed, tried again, “…I don’t… I’ve never—..I..uhm.” He attempted, but failed just as bad as his previous attempt.

He felt ridiculous. He’d been kissed before, sure, but not like this. Not where every brush of your lips made his pulse pound, not where his body reacted before he could even think. Even cuddling left him overheated and restless, too aware of every place your skin touched his.

And now? Now he was sure you could feel how nervous, how inexperienced, how utterly undone he was by something so simple.

“You don’t need to say anything, Ev.” Your voice was steady, grounding, and your lips pressed another slow kiss along his throat, trailing patience. “Just feel… okay?”

Evan’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, eyes squeezed shut like he was trying to block everything out. But your words dug in deep, warmer than any touch. His hand tightened against your shoulder, trembling.

“Just feel?” He whispered, voice rough, almost a laugh but not quite. His lips brushed the crown of your head, shaky and hesitant. “God, I already feel so much. Too much. I don’t even know what to do with it.”